


Girl Friday

by BlueQuartz



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Slow Burn Romance, Storybrooke AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 22:45:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2043111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueQuartz/pseuds/BlueQuartz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Storybrooke AU: Belle French lives in Storybrooke with her father and helps him run the flower shop.<br/>Rent collection day brings out the worst in people and Belle is no stranger to Mr Gold's dealings with her father. Desperate to keep the family shop and home, Belle offers to strike a deal with Mr. Gold only to face rejection. Enter Mayor Mills, who is willing to strike a bargain of her own with Miss French.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Girl Friday

Prologue: And they lived mundanely ever after

Our story begins on rent collection day...

All in all, a normal day. The French's engaged in their tried and true routine as they woke up, ate breakfast and prepared for their day. Father and daughter effortlessly stepped around one another in their cramped apartment, knowing each others habits so they passed each other by in between trips to the bathroom and engaged in conversation over coffee. Then it was downstairs to open up the flower shop. Moe filled out the inventory orders, printed and organized the spreadsheets before tending to the orchids, then tulips, roses and so on. Belle could never be trusted with the flowers since she lacked Moe's green thumb, so her job was to wash the windows, sweep the store front and field call-in orders.

Morning stretched into afternoon, Belle picked up their lunch from Granny's diner and brought it back. Moe munched on his usual sandwich, eyes glued on the small television he kept beside the storefront counter. Meanwhile, Belle had a novel opened in her lap, reading passages in between bites. Everything went smoothly, yet as the day wore on tensions mounted. Although her father did his best to hide the financial strain they were under, Belle wasn't easily fooled. She could see it in how her father's complexion paled whenever the bell above their shop ring, only to look relieved when it turned out to be a customer or family friend stopping by for a 'hello' and a brief chat.

She thought this anxiety to be silly, but said nothing to her father about her feelings. He would simply reiterate the date importance and remind Belle of their obligations. Belle knew she wouldn't be able to get anyone else in this town to see reason, because one day out of each month, her father and other shop keepers/home owners gritted their teeth and said a prayer.

Afternoon stretched into an eternity.

Her favorite work jeans held spots of fertilizer muck and the knees worn from hours upon hours of kneeling. Thick brunette hair piled up in a messy bun, however stray strands curled at her neck, sometimes sticking to beads of sweat sneaking behind the collar of an old t-shirt. Even after years of assisting in her father's greenhouses, Belle couldn't help but wrinkle her nose. The fertilizer was good enough to nourish the French's livelihood, but profits from flowers didn't take away the stink.  
-

While tending to potted plants, Moe French, quietly observed his daughter at work. To Moe, his daughter was more suited for a different kind of life. Namely an occupation that didn't require so much physical strain. Though it was partly parental pride, Moe always sensed there was something special about Belle. She was a very bright girl, curious and well-read. Belle could have had her pick universities and gone anywhere, but circumstances kept her in Storybrooke.

Moe was still proud of his daughter, he just wished their hands weren't tied. Were it within his power, he would have gladly given her Harvard, travels abroad and rooms full with more books than she could read. Yet for all his dreams for Belle, Moe French was a man firmly grounded in reality. He needed help running this business and there wasn't enough money to pay for a part-timer. Even with his daughter's help, they were barely scraping by.

Moe decided to count himself lucky though, Belle never once expressed resentment for their lot in life. She simply carried out the tasks asked of her no matter how distasteful or difficult without complaint. However now was not the time or place to contemplate such things. For as soon as Moe French heard the bell above the shop door, his gaze flicked to his watch.

Three-fifteen. 

Moe found his throat felt constrict. Swallowing thickly, he mustered up enough of his voice to tell Belle he'd be right back. She moved to rise up from her spot by the rose bushes, but Moe was quick to wave off the attempt.

“It's just a customer Belle. Keep at what you are doing and I'll handle it.”

With that, Moe left the greenhouse, gently closing the back door to the shop. After sparing his landlord a brief loathsome glare, Moe rounded around the counter, crouched low to unlock his safe. He strained to hear soft taps from a cane, but Mr. Gold never needed to announce his arrival with noise because the pawnbroker's presence spoke for him. After several fumbling attempts at working the combination lock, Moe paused to wipe sweaty palms at denim pants.

He managed to click the dial into place, unlocking the safe as Gold paused in front of the counter. Rising to stand upright, Moe dropped stacks of bound bills down on the counter, shoving them in Mr. Gold's direction. 

“There. Take your money and get out.” Although he couldn't express as to why, Moe didn't want to risk Belle walking in and seeing the exchange. Call it intuition or fatherly instinct, but Moe wanted to keep his daughter as far away from their landlord as humanly possible. However, nothing was ever simple with Mr. Gold. Rather than taking the bills and leaving, Gold rested the handle of his cane on the counter. As always, he took his time leafing through the money, silently counting. A lump settled in Moe's throat as he witnessed how Gold's expression went from thoughtful to troubled. The florist found himself pinned with a harsh stare followed by a smile.

Mr Gold's smiles were never pleasant. Most likely because the upward curl of his lips oozed arrogance, his gaze cold towards whomever happened to be the unlucky recipient of said smirk. Moe pulled out a checkered handkerchief from his right pocket to dab away sweat forming at his brow. He was out of excuses. Moe could already picture him and Belle staring at an eviction notice. 

“There seems to be a mistake” Gold's tone of voice was quiet, but there was no denying the implication that the mistake was Moe's. “I don't know who has been keeping your books as of late, Mr. French” Gold pushed the money back his direction, “but you are two-hundred and fifty dollars short.”

Though he would never admit it aloud, Moe knew this wasn't an accounting error. Game of Thorns was the only florist in Storybrooke, but outside of Valentines Day it was a miracle whenever father and daughter pulled together a profit, let alone enough money to live off on in addition to the business expenses and rent.

“Oh...” Moe began, heart hammering in his chest, face flushed as more sweat collected and he fumbled with the handkerchief “I must have forgotten the rest.” Despite knowing his attempts to stall wouldn't help himself or his shop, Moe knelt down to peer into the safe. Naturally, it was empty. 

Before he could rise again, Mr. Gold's cane tapped his right shoulder. Moe flinched before daring to glance over the counter. 

“Let's not drag this out, Mr. French. We both know you don't have the money to finish your payment.” Although his voice was barely above a whisper, Gold's tone cut Moe to the quick. Stubbornly, the florist set his jaw, pushing Gold's cane off his shoulder before standing. His bravery quickly went from shoulders, trickled down his spine then fell to the floor by the time Moe was upright. He couldn't bring himself to look Gold in the eye. Hands clenched in front of him, Moe wrestled with his pride. He could picture exactly how this situation was going to play out. 

Desperation won out.“I'm not asking you to forget our debt for good. All I want is a seven day extension...”

“We all want a lot of things, Mr French.” Gold didn't raise his voice, yet Moe trembled all the same. “For example, I want my tenants to honor their agreements by paying me on time” Gold returned. Moe could read the writing on the wall. His flower shop and their home was slipping through his fingers. Belle would be devastated...

“If you are unhappy with our payment, then go ahead and evict us.”  
-

Upon entering the shop, Gold took note of how she followed her father inside, only to quietly linger in the doorway. From counting the money Moe shoved his way, up to the florist's pathetic attempts to plead for a few more days, the young woman attempted to stay out of sight. Gold wasn't oblivious to her glares though. It wasn't uncommon for him to receive harsh looks. However, this did mark the first time Miss French was present for rent collection.

And if her remark was anything to go on, she intended to participate in the negotiations.

“Quite a bold statement, Miss French” he returned, attention turned to the brunette. She frowned in response, blue eyes meeting his before the young woman's gaze turned down. Thinking this would mark the end of her input, Gold was in for a surprise since Miss French wasn't done addressing him.

“You have threaten everyone in Storybrooke with eviction notices at least once, but I have yet to see anyone being forced out of their homes or shops.”

Ah, so she was challenging him. The stunned florist was no longer interesting to him, Gold took two strides closer to Moe's daughter. 

“Tell me something, Miss French” he stood just a few feet across from her. “Do you fancy yourself to be a modern day Jane Austen heroine? I imagine that right now, you are patting yourself on the back for being a courageous and outspoken woman. You think that this can be won through determination and good intentions alone. Correct?”

He watched as Miss French's gaze briefly wander to the book she had abandoned on the counter. Gold also observed how her cheeks flushed, lips forming a thin line. Apparently she had been found out. Not entirely her fault though, Gold simply had a talent with reading people. As much as Miss Belle French wished to unnerve him, all of those present knew she'd be her own undoing. 

Any other time he would have relished the opportunity to burst her optimistic bubble, but she was meddling with his business affairs and wasting time. Gold had a schedule to keep and money to collect, thus he decided to bring their dealings to an end. 

“I'll grant you a twenty-four hour grace period.” As much as he hated compromises, Miss French's display had earned the flower shop a small victory. One only had to look at Moe French's pale face and gloomy expression to know this was nothing but a spark of false hope. If the florist couldn't come up with their rent in a month's time, little doubt he wouldn't be able scrounge it up within a day. Moe's daughter, on the other hand, must have believed they were fortunate. She was having difficulty hiding a smile, pleased that her boldness had won this battle of wills.

Gold looked forward to witnessing the young woman's disappointment first hand. Nevertheless, tomorrow was tomorrow. The present was before him and he had places to be. Gripping the handle of his cane, he acknowledged Miss French with a nod before turning to leave.

Gold never fancied himself a playwright, yet the script all but wrote itself. He would return to the shop tomorrow to find the French's still lacking. And the finale would be Miss French having to own up that her efforts had been in vain. While Gold mapped out the future, he was momentarily caught up in the present because Miss French had decided to follow him out the door.

“Mr. Gold?” she called out. It wasn't difficult for her to catch up, not that he could outpace her even if he tried. Gold imagined quite a lot of people would love to see him running in terror from someone as harmless as Miss French, but he quickly batted the image away. Nothing of the sort was going to happen, not in this lifetime or any others. Once she was standing in front of him, Gold found her to be a touch irritating. Everything from her messy hair-bun, the worn t-shirt and garden gloves, right down to the worn soles of her sneakers. Most of all though, he found her optimism to be grating. 

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Miss French?” he began, his growing impatience with her wearing a paper-thin disguise. Unfortunately for the both of them, Belle French didn't take the hint subtle hint that she was being a nuisance. 

A quick shake of her head followed, “Oh no, you've done more than enough” she said without a hint of sarcasm. Luckily, Gold was more than willing to make up for what her words lacked, “On that we can agree upon.”

He was about to walk around her when the young woman decided to amend her previous statement.

“There is one thing...”

It was taking all of his self-control not to force Miss French to spit out what she wanted to say.

“I wanted to make a deal with you.”

Normally, he'd be up for a bargain, but Gold was not a fool. He knew what Belle would want out of any arrangement between them.

“Let me guess” he smiled and she was foolish enough to return the expression. 

“You want me to either forgive your father's debts or reduce the payments, so long as you agree to offer something in return.”

Belle was visibly eager to speak up, no doubt ready to deliver an eloquent and impassioned speech about how much she could offer. Before she could utter another word, of which he'd be forced to suffer through, Gold aimed to end their conversation quickly.

“The answer is 'no', Miss French. Now, if you'll excuse me” 

Gold didn't wait to be excused, instead he circumvented the living obstruction in his path. He wasn't left alone for long though because Belle followed on his heels.

“Mr Gold, you don't understand. My father works so hard. He sacrifices his health by working so many hours, but we aren't making enough. I know you want everyone to honor their contracts. And I understand that there's no point in doing business with people if they are quick to neglect their obligations...”

He tried to walk a little faster, but his bad leg wouldn't allow it. Gold gritted his teeth, fighting back pain, silently cursing his ankle alongside Miss French and her attempts to bargain with him. They were outside the pharmacy, his next collection stop, when Miss French once again inserted herself in his way.

Since she was baring the door, Gold had no choice but to look at her. A quick scan over her attire: old jeans, worn shirt, dirty gardening gloves, and hair barely held up by an elastic tie. Her blue eyes stared back at Gold. He was already having regrets about giving Moe French one more day, because his leniency had only served to make her bolder and more persistent.

“Give me one good reason why you won't at least listen to my proposal.”

Gold's right hand tightly gripped the handle of his cane. He was at the end of his limited patience with this woman, seconds away from telling Miss French where she could take her deal. Instead, he manged to be civilized enough to give her a direct answer.

It was hardly Gold's fault if his message wasn't one she wanted to hear.

“I could give you several reasons, Miss French. The first and foremost being that I never make deals where I gain nothing in return.”  
-  
Belle struggled to find the words, but in the face of such opposition her vocabulary failed spectacularly. Mr Gold kept looking past her, his aim to get into the shop to harass yet another tenant. She wasn't done arguing, but he long since brushed her off. Belle desperately wanted to help her father. She didn't want to be a heroine, like Mr. Gold assumed; Belle only wanted to do what was right.

She had hoped Mr. Gold would be honorable enough to at least give her proposal a chance. Since there was no hope of him listening to her, Belle knew she had been bested thus she wordlessly side stepped out of his way. Before he could enter the pharmacy, she gave one last parting shot.

“We will get that money tomorrow”

He paused, hand stopping short of opening the door. Belle felt an unpleasant shiver ripple down her spine as Gold glanced at her over his shoulder.

“Perhaps, dearie. Please keep in mind that if you manage to pay your rent this time, there's always next month.”

With those last words, he entered the shop. Left outside, Belle bit the inside of her cheek. Belle did her best to stifle her frustration before it could take root and consume the rest of her day. Although Belle heard of Mr. Gold's horrible reputation, she held on to the belief that he was a decent man. She wasn't inclined to give up all hope, but since Mr. Gold was now extorting money from the local pharmacist, Belle knew it was time to go home. 

Her return to the flower shop was not as Belle had pictured, but she was resolved not to give up simply because Mr. Gold refused to make a deal. After tugging off her work gloves, Belle reached for the door only to stop as she peered beyond the glass. 

The mayor was inside, talking to her father. Since he wasn't taking down notes, Belle could only assume that Regina Mills had not stopped by to order flowers. Cautiously, Belle pulled opened the door and slipped inside. Any hopes of slipping in quietly and going unnoticed vanished in an instant because the mayor quickly turned her attention to Belle.

“What a pleasure to see you Miss French. Your father and I were just talking about you.”

Belle froze in place, “Oh...” she muttered. Not the most complex response, but Belle was stunned that the mayor of Storybrooke wanted anything to do with her. She and her father were well-known around town, but hardly movers and shakers in terms of business or politics. 

Although Regina was fair enough as mayor, Belle couldn't help but feel a little anxious being addressed by the other woman. Regina smiled, such an easy expression to return that Belle couldn't help herself. Belatedly, Belle realized she must have looked a mess, since she had been heaping out fertilizer not thirty minutes ago. 

As if reading Belle's apprehension, Regina spoke up, “I hope that I haven't come in at a bad time.”

Belle wanted to tell her about Gold but knew there was little the mayor could do about him. Being landlord, Gold was within his rights to demand their rent. “No, it's fine” Belle began, “I just...don't understand what you want with us.”

Red lips once again produced a friendly smile, “You make a good point, Miss French. Although I could use some flowers to spruce up my office.”

Moe took that as his cue to find his order forms and a pen in the back room, leaving Belle and the mayor alone. 

“The truth is that I'm here to offer you a job.”

It took a moment for the mayor's words to sink in. “Me?” Belle asked before giving herself a quick glance. Dirty and worn clothes and her hair was gradually falling down from elastic ties. 

 

“As it happens, I find myself in need of a secretary.” Belle didn't miss how Miss Mills scrutinized her appearance, but the mayor carried on with her offer. “Mind you it won't be easy. I've been told that I am not an easy person to work for, but with some polish and on the job training I have every faith in your capabilities Miss French.”

Belle didn't know what had changed since yesterday or how one's fortunes could abruptly swing from hopeful to grim then back again. In the end, Belle decided not to question it. 

It was three-forty-six on collection day when Belle accepted Regina's deal.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes:   
> I do not own the rights to Once Upon A Time. This is simply a work of non-profit fiction written by a fangirl who can not afford a lawsuit.
> 
> The Mature rating is simply a place holder for now since the romance will be a slow build.


End file.
